FAKIRU WEEK 2014
by Diabolical Kitsutora
Summary: For Fakiru Week 2014. Prompts: Green Test Gate Fantasy Flower Time Hands An AU where instead of Ahiru becoming a duck when the story ends... turns out, she was a girl all along. And even stranger? Their world is one of magic and mysticism. I don't own the characters, sadly.
1. GREEN

GREEN

"Ahiru, wait!" Fakir yelled after her quickly receding back. "Please wait..."

His fists clenched in mild anger and irritation. The emotion he felt foremost was shame: He was ashamed he'd yelled at Ahiru, and caused her to run away.

'Idiot, concentrate!' She was. 'You're doing it incorrectly.' He hadn't been helpful or corrected her. 'You're useless, at this rate you'll never get it.' That wasn't true and it was his fault she wasn't getting it. He was letting his emotions, his uncertainties, doubts, and his fears rule him.

"Why do I always push her away like this?" He asked himself. Gritting his teeth, he ran off after her. It didn't take long for Fakir to pick up his pace; as soon as he saw where Ahiru's footprints were headed he knew she was heading to a dangerous place.

"I won't let me actions hurt her more," he promised aloud, his heart thumping loudly in time with his every footfall.

She didn't know where she was going, only that her feet were rapidly taking her away. Even as she began to tire, her feet as heavy as her heart felt, she kept running. The dust and debris she kicked up clung to her tear stained cheeks and eyes, making it hard to see in the already dark forest.

When she was finally out of breath and her muscles twitched uncomfortably, she stopped. Leaning forward with her hands on her knees, she panted. She did not immediately notice her surroundings as she concentrated on calming her breathing and heart. Once they both returned to normal she looked up and gasped at what she saw.

Everything was... green!

There was absolutely no other color; green was everything and everything was green. Even the bit of sky that glimmered through the trees was a soft, ethereal and unreal green glow. Ahiru couldn't believe her eyes.

"What do you seek here?"

Ahiru gulped nervously, a sick feeling of dread settling in her stomach, "w-who's there?"

"I am here, I am beside you. I am everywhere, for this is my forest." The voice said softly.

Heart pounding from being startled, the young redhead looked around, trying to find the source of the voice.

"I don't get it, I can't see you. How can you be everywhere?" She looked for a person or even a personified animal, but saw no one.

"This forest is as I am, alive and conscious. I exist all around this clearing."

"Yeah, okay," she said after a moment, "but where are you?"

She looked around from the green moss covered trees to the algae laden pond, to the green colored rocks but again saw no one to talk to.

"Step forth child and touch the trunk of the smallest tree. Then you will know to whom you speak."

Debating for a moment, she decided it couldn't hurt to do as the voice said, "Alright," she said with a shrug, and stepped forward.

_

Fakir ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He'd known Ahiru was fast, but the rate at which he lost sight of her was ridiculous. She'd had no more than a minute's head start, yet he'd lost her almost immediately. He wasn't worried about finding her, however, because he knew where she was being led and by whom she was being led. The Ancient Oak tree had her attention without her knowing it, which was dangerous for someone who didn't know and could not control the power that flowed through it.

Huffing and panting, Fakir crashed through the forest, desperate to get to Ahiru before something bad happened. By the time he had reached the edge of the Oak's forest, he could hear her luring Ahiru towards the Ancient Oak itself.

"Ahiru, no!"

_

Soft fingers reached out to rough bark, ears unhearing of the crashing footsteps heading towards her. By the time anything other than the small tree in front of her registered, it was already too late. Fakir's desperate cry reached her ears as her palm rested comfortably on the warm (warm?) bark, a beautiful soft, light green glow surrounded her body. The glow intensified then slowly dimmed and Ahiru was no longer there.

Fakir stepped into the clearing too late. Hands on his knees panting, he grit his teeth, "damn it!"


	2. TEST

TEST

When Ahiru opened her eyes she was in a room. Except... it had no floor, just walls. And everything was in shades of green, just as the forest had been.

"Where am I?" The redhead wondered aloud.

"You are within my borders, one with the subconscious of the forest." Answered the voice from before, but unlike before, there was a faint face before her. It was kind looking; soft and feminine though its eyes remained closed.

Eyebrows knitting together, Ahiru frowned, "but I'm still me."

The voice laughed, "Yes, you are yourself and I am as I ever was, but our minds have melded so that you may attempt your test."

"Test?" she inquired, "what test?" she began to feel nervous, "is it the math test? I'm not sure I'm ready! Even Fakir yelled at me for not getting it..." Her chin dropped to her chest, a feeling of defeat coiling around her heart.

Again the Oak laughed, "Worry not, yours is not a test of logic, but one of strength of character."

Curling in on herself, she tucked her head into her knees, feeling worse with each word the Oak spoke, "but I'm really not all that strong."

She didn't know how but she knew the Oak was smiling even though she did not pick up her head, "relax your body and open your mind. Your test has already begun."

_

"Damn it!" Fakir growled through his teeth, "damn it, damn it, damn it. This is just like Drosselmeyer's story. Why am I always too weak?"

"You still have insecurities, young writer." Spoke the tree.

"When it comes to Ahiru, I always mess up. Am I no good in our true reality, as my true self?" Shaking his head he grits his teeth, "I have to get her out of there, she doesn't know what she's gotten herself into."

As he was reached out to touch the Ancient Oak it spoke again to him, "do you not trust your partner, and have you no faith in her?"

Fakir stopped short, his eyes widening as he looked into a face in the Ancient Oak he'd never seen before. It was a disfigured face, created by the natural contours of the bark, yet it was beautiful and radiated wisdom.

His face reddened, "she's not my partner and that's beside the point." He sobered then, "I do trust her, but this isn't a place she can overcome."

"Is she not the one you went so far for to help defeat the Raven? Is she not the only one you could write stories about?"

"Yes but-" the tree would not let him continue.

"Then I issue you a test as well. Face your heart Fakir, allow what you truly feel to come forth and show me the faith you say it holds."

The face disappeared and Fakir sank to the ground, "I do have faith," he murmured, "but how do I let my heart feel what it truly feels, what does that even mean?"

_

Ahiru floated around within the tree, confused about the test she was supposed to take, "has the test started already? Am I doing it right?"

"You're doing just fine, Ahiru."

Ahiru started at the voice, "oh Fakir, what are you-" her voice faltered as she looked up, "uh, Fakir... why is your hair blond?"

"Isn't it obvious, idiot?" Another Fakir materialized beside the blond Fakir, this one a redhead.

"Eh?! Two Fakirs'?" she looked on, baffled.

"I'm sorry for being so mean and rude, Ahiru. You really are doing well." This time a blue haired Fakir materialized.

"Oh uh... it's alright Fakir... I think... but why are there three of you?"

"It's part of your test, obviously." the red haired Fakir stated.

"You don't have to be so rude about it," she said with indignation, "but what is the test?"

"Which one of us is the real Fakir?" the yellow one said.

"Please forgive us for testing you like this."

"The real one?" Ahiru questioned, a moment passed and then she thought about it as she looked at them. None of them looked nor acted like the Fakir she knew. However, the situation she found herself in was anything but ordinary, so she tried to think of herself in those Fakir's shoes. If there were three of her, what would they look like, what would they say, how would they act? And she realized quickly what was going on.

"All of you are the real Fakir," she said with complete certainty.

"Are we?" Blue Fakir asked.

"How?" Asked yellow Fakir with a smile.

"Have fun explaining that, moron." Red Fakir grumbled.

"How do I explain it..." she touched her lips in thought, her expression downcast but determined. "It's like you're only parts of Fakir," she began, "parts that aren't really Fakir until you put them altogether in one person. Does that make sense?"

"That sounds stupid."

"It's not!" she defended, "blue and yellow Fakir don't make sense without red because Fakir tends to always be gruff even when he's happy or when he apologizes." She nodded to herself, "sometimes he's really kind but he covers it with that attitude of his. It's like he's hiding what he truly feels."

"You seem so sure," smiled the yellow Fakir.

"It's the only way any of you could be the real Fakir, because none of you alone could be him."

"You are more perceptive than you give yourself credit for." The blue Fakir said, "You have shown the strength of character when it comes to faith in yourself, even if it may falter at times."

"Looks like you passed," red harrumphed.

Ahiru smiled, "does that mean I'm done here?" Ahiru asked with a smile.

Before her, the three Fakir's formed into one, creating a version of the Fakir she was used to seeing.

"Not quite," he said.

_

Fakir sat waiting on the ground, leaning against a tree adjacent from the Ancient Oak. He sat for what felt like hours, yet he was patient and calm. He wasn't sure what the Oak had in mind as a test for her, but he had faith she'd pass it. She was, after all, the most stubborn girl he'd ever met. And in the hours he sat he confronted the Oak's other task. He faced his heart and stopped denying what he felt.

'Doing so is partly why I keep hurting her.' He didn't want her to know as much as he did not wish to acknowledge it. It was not out of shame or embarrassment, but because he felt he did not deserve to feel anything towards her but friendship. In his mind he was not worthy of such feelings as love or affection.

But it had been inevitable, as he got to know her, the real her, and somehow in the process of saving the town and being saved by her, she captured his heart. Without him realizing it, he had begun to feel strangely fond of her. For the longest time he would not acknowledge it, no less name it, but he could no longer deny, no, would no longer deny it. He was in love with her.

He realized the Oak also wanted him to forgive himself, because in most aspects where he had failed, he'd redeemed himself, except in his recent attitude towards Ahiru and in being honest with her about his feelings towards her. With each realization he felt a little lighter, and he again began to wonder what kind of tests Ahiru would be facing.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to relax more while he waited.

_

Ahiru compared leaving that weird space to leaving Drosselmeyer's dimension; while there wasn't anything pulling, pressing, or pushing on her, it just made her feel weird. She passed through a liquid door, the tree's trunk rippling as she reentered the real realm in which she belonged.

"So I see you made it through alright." Ahiru's eyes were immediately drawn towards Fakir's voice.

He was sitting against a nearby tree, seemingly relaxed and content, "yeah," she confirmed, not knowing what else to say.

At that point Fakir pushed himself up and dusted off his pants, "I wanted to apologize for earlier."

"Earlier? Oh! It's fine Fakir, no need to apologize."

Stepping towards her so he could face her properly, they made eye contact, "no, I was much harsher than I should have been, and it wasn't completely because of you. I was pushing you away, and for that I am sorry as well."

Holding out his hand, he silently asked her for a dance.

The other Fakir's words drifted through her mind, 'when you leave, your trust, courage, and love will be tested.'

'How?'

'You will know, but the real Fakir will be the facilitator.'

She thought on his words then surrendered her hand, allowing him to pull her close.

She trusted Fakir without fear of doubt.

He moved into position to begin a pas de deux.

She had the courage to allow him to lead her without worrying about injuries or missteps.

Their dance was not a simple routine of lifting, reaching, chasing, or catching, no, their dance was all about the emotions swirling within them. Their dance spoke words they were not ready to speak themselves, but words they were ready to acknowledge within themselves.

Ahiru knew she loved Fakir, and her tests showed her she could trust in that love. Fakir as well could admit to himself that he was in love with Ahiru. He was no longer afraid to feel such a way, and he did not fear whatever her answer may be. Together, they were extensions of each other, complete in their dance, complete in their existence. As the final lift was executed, both knew they had passed the tests they hadn't even known they needed.


	3. GATE

GATE

Fakir watched the changing expressions on Ahiru's face.

At first there was confusion, then awe, bewilderment, excitement, a step back to puzzlement, and finally she was pensive. The green eyed writer wondered if she could handle all that must have been going through her mind, because she was back to confused all too soon.

With a sigh, he sat back and watched her, "is something wrong?"

He watched her expression change again to pensive, "nothing's wrong really, it's just... well, this town is actually stranger in reality than it had been in Drosselmeyer's story."

Fakir had to agree; he hadn't remembered what the town had really been like before the story took over. "It's true; I'd forgotten ours was a world of magic. It makes Drosselmeyer's world seem tame in comparison."

The young redheaded woman nodded, "it's scary what the gates could do if misused."

He nodded in agreement. Those gates were the whole reason the crazed story spinner was able to escape the fate of oblivion in the first place. He may have died but he was still able to create another reality with the town gates, a reality where he had power. Limited power, but still power nonetheless. Once Fakir destroyed the story spinning device, that realities ties to the gate was severed. So wherever he was, there was no danger of seeing him again.

"So can we use them to bring Mytho and Rue back from the story?" her question severed his train of thought.

Green eyes connected with blue and he understood how much she missed them, "it should be possible as long as we use the right gate." His face reddened at the way hers lit up, "don't get ahead of yourself. I have to do research first."

Happiness radiated off of her, "I know," she said matter of factly. She tried to curb her happiness so she could show she was serious, but she was soon smiling once more, "is there anything I can do to help?"

No longer able to keep his face neutral, he gave in to the urge to smile at her, "yeah, come with me." He started walking knowing she was right behind him.

Ahiru knew the importance of Fakir's research, she really did. But it was just so... boring and over her head. She was becoming increasingly better at ballet, and she was coming along in her academic classes, but the magic side of things completely threw her. Sure there was a certain fantastical magic air to Drosselmeyer's world, but there hadn't been formulas to it.

At least none that she had been aware of.

Still, she did her best to understand the magical tomes table of contents system to try and find what Fakir was looking for.

"Extra dimensional gates... extra dimensional gates..." she repeated the words to herself, hoping she would find the right section. She still did not understand why the table of contents was spread throughout the entire book instead of being all at the beginning like her academic books.

She narrowed her eyes in concentration as she flipped through the pages, skimming them for the information needed. About ten minutes into her search she found something.

"Hey Fakir," Ahiru whispered, remembering they were in a library.

"Did you find something, Ahiru?" he questioned.

She nodded and handed him the book, "extra dimensional doors. That's basically the same thing, right?"

She watched as Fakir's eyes sped along the page, watching for a positive reaction. When he looked at her with a small smile a huge one broke out on her own face.

"This should work. Thanks, Ahiru."

"Alright!" she cheered before several voices shushed her. Face turning cherry red, she hung her head and whispered, "Sorry."

According to the book, and some minor alterations he had to make to the spell, the West gate of Kinkan had to be the location of the spell. It also specified that it had to be done in the hours leading dusk to nightfall, a time of day where one door closed and another opened. So Fakir and Ahiru arrived a little before five to prepare the area.

The two spent time cleansing the area so that nothing impure would block the pathway of their gate. As the town clock struck six in the evening, Fakir got into place and Ahiru stood off to the side. Both watched as the sun lowered, painting the sky red, orange, pink, and navy. At exactly a quarter past six, Fakir began chanting.

No matter how many times Ahiru saw the sunset, it never got old. It was beautiful and breathtaking; a sight she could not fully appreciate as a duck. However, her attention was stolen by Fakir's voice as he began chanting. It wasn't an enchanting voice, but it did send shivers down her spine. She had no clue what he was saying, but she could feel the magic in his intentions.

"Lead us to Mytho and Rue." That was what she felt his words were saying.

After a few minutes of chanting the Western gate began to glow, and intensified the longer he continued. Time was lost as they stood before the gate. Ahiru had no clue how long they'd been standing there when Fakir turned to her and held out his hand.

"Let's go get Mytho and Rue," he said to her.

Smiling, she nodded as she took his hand, the gate opening before them, a black abyss instead of the cobblestone pavement.


	4. FANTASY

FANTASY

"I can't wait!" Ahiru cried, jumping and pumping her fist in the air. "My first school festival," she began pacing as she listed off all she wanted to do, "of course we have to visit Miss Freya's Fairie Flower Path, and Pique's Nymph Café. Oh, what about Autor's Goddess musical? I don't really want to go to Lillie's Battle Fantasy Maze, she's going to try and scare me. The Headmaster's Fantasy Adventure tour sounds fun too and-"

"Ahiru, please, I understand. You want to visit everything." Fakir smiled indulgently, knowing how she wanted to see and support everyone at the school.

The young redhead nodded furiously, walking backwards as they made their way to the Academy. "I heard Miss Hermia and Mr. Lysander did a set-up together. I bet it will be really pretty whatever it is. Miss Malen has a fantasy themed art gallery too."

There was little Fakir could do to curb her excitement, so he let her chatter on as they walked. He did not have to endure it for long, however, as a certain pair of fantastical characters made an appearance.

"Lively as usual, it seems," laughed a soft feminine voice.

Ahiru stopped in her tracks and turned to see Rue and Mytho standing there. "Rue!" she cried, "Mytho, you're here!"

She ran to Rue, giving her a big hug, "I've missed you too, Ahiru."

Rue readily reciprocated her hug. The boys shook hands and greetings, watching the young ladies relating recent events.

"Come on, the festivities will start soon. We should be on our way." No one could deny Mytho's logic and thus the group was once again on their way.

Fakir wasn't a people person, but he also was not a hermit. The festival, however, was ridiculous. People were everywhere. In clusters on the pathways, crowded around vendors, stuffed into stalls, and crammed in wherever there was space.

"Look at how many people are here, it's crazy!" Ahiru commented.

"Well it is the annual Fantasy Festival. People travel from quite some distance to experience it." Announced the green haired youth.

There was little talk about who came to the festival but much discussion about what went on inside.

"I can't wait to see the ballet troupe," Rue gushed, "I wonder if my old group will recognize me."

Fakir turned thoughtful, "it's possible," he started, "our true reality was really one of mysticism and magic, and I tried to keep memories of you, Mytho, and Ahiru intact." He met the gazes of each of his friends before looking at Ahiru, "the whole reason you were a duck for the story was because of a botched spell just before the story took over."

The redhead giggled nervously, "Yeah, I remember that now. I was shocked to learn about it, I thought I'd never dance as a girl ever again."

Fakir nodded, understanding how she felt. They had no more time to dwell on it however, as Mr. Katze, the ballet instructor, loudly and proudly welcomed them to the Annual Festival of Fantasy at Kinkan Academy: School of Illusion and Wonder.

For the first thousand attractions, the group stayed together. They enjoyed watching Rue's old troupe's ballet performance, and then Autor's musical right after. For the younger audience, Malen, Freya, Hermia, and a few others put on a puppet show of Red Riding Hood. They also visited Pique's Café, Miss Freya's Flower path, and Femio's interpretation of a dance steeped in fantasy.

They quickly and quietly escaped through the back door.

After the debacle with the decision to visit that attraction (seriously, who had even suggested it?) the couples split into two. Mytho and Rue followed after an old friend of Mytho's while Fakir and Ahiru were left to wander by themselves. Around that time Ahiru was getting hungry so they stopped at a vendor who was selling pork and chicken shashlik. The skewered meat and vegetables smelled amazing to the hungry teens, and so both ordered a chicken shashlik. Fakir wasn't sure how well his companion could eat and walk so they found a seat on the edge of the school fountain.

It was just beginning to turn dark, the sun making its way down from the sky. The late September breeze was a welcome feeling as they sat and watched people pass them by.

"What is fantasy, Fakir?" Ahiru asked out of the blue.

Taken aback, his brows knit together, "you can't tell me you seriously don't know what fantasy is."

Ahiru shook her head, "I know what fantasy is. I mean, what do you think fantasy is?"

He was still lost, "I don't understand."

For a moment she was quiet, her body turning every which way, her eyes searching. Once she found what she was looking for, she pointed to it, "to Miss Freya, fantasy seems to be about the flowers morphing into objects they usually aren't." She put her index finger to her lip and looked up, "Rue's old dance troupe seemed to have a different take on fantasy too, and Autor? His musical seemed sad and… manic? Maybe… but everyone seems to think of fantasy in a different way, so I was wondering what fantasy was to you."

Fakir wanted to dodge her question, but at the same time he wanted to be honest with her. Before he could back out he blurted, "You." Ahiru gave him a questioning look so he reiterated, "you are what I think of when I think of what fantasy is."

The young redhead blinked in confusion, "me? I'm a fantasy to you?" He could tell by her expression that she wasn't sure if she should be upset, confused, or both.

"I mean… you were my idea of a fantasy, back when we were still in the story." Now that he had started, the words were flowing as if from his pen unto a piece of parchment. "You were just a little duck, nothing special, as a girl you were clumsy and your only power came from a pendant which made you into Princess Tutu. You were the very definition of fantasy, and even more so the more I got to know you." His body was turned towards her but his gaze fell to his hands which lay in his lap.

He couldn't look up at her. He was too embarrassed.

Or maybe he was just afraid to see her reaction.

"But I'm not now, right? Because you said were, and that's past tense." She glowered at him when he chuckled at her words, his gaze lifting.

"Yes, I said that in the past tense."

"So what is your take on fantasy now?" Somehow she seemed even more interested in his answer.

"It's still you, idiot." Fakir did not say this with mean intent or malice, but a playful edge, with a small smile on his lips.

This time Ahiru's brows furrowed, "but I thought you said that was before."

Fakir nodded, "it was both then and now that you were my idea of what a fantasy was like. You were a duck, Ahiru, a duck turned into a girl whom ultimately would be a duck once more. No chance to hang out with your friends, no way to go to class and learn, little chance of improving your dance, and no way to find a human… lover." He said the last word softly, his eyes averted.

Thinking on it, Ahiru nodded, "yeah, I guess I can agree with you there. But why am I still a fantasy to you now?" This part seemed to have her especially perplexed.

"Because you are here as a human," he said matter of factly.

"Huh?"

Before he spoke he met her eyes and did not look away, "before I destroyed the story spinning device, I surrendered myself to the fact that no one would remember you, Mytho, or Rue. I could talk to you all I wanted, but we would never have a real conversation, and there would always be a wall between us. However, I was able to destroy that blasted device and then suddenly… the whole world changed. Mytho and Rue still returned to their story, but you were human again, something I never thought would have been possible. Ahiru, you are my idea of a fantasy because even though ours is a world of magic, it just hasn't sunk in yet that you are really here. I wake up every morning expecting to see you as a duck, expecting to see normal things around the school, and expecting that I need to keep my writing abilities hidden."

As the young writer took a moment to breathe and gauge her reaction, he was surprised. Ahiru's expression was tender, much like when she had repeated the mime Mytho had performed in class while he was still under the influence of the Raven's blood. There was no judgment in her gaze, just acceptance and desire to hear him out. That wonderful smile of hers' gave him the courage to finish what he had started.

Fakir looked into Ahiru's blue eyes and knew he was ready to say some of what he'd been holding back, "you are my fantasy because you bring to my life things I never thought I would have. Peace, hope, fun, and… love." His cheeks turned slightly red, "you were the one person I wanted to be able to reach out to, but the only one I wouldn't have been able to." Hesitantly he reached up with his hand, cupping her cheek, "you are my fantasy because I am able to tell you what I feel, and no matter the answer, you are still able to answer in return."

The young dancer's cheeks had turned a soft hue of pink that looked charming on her pale, freckled skin. But what he noticed was that she was still smiling.

"I think I understand," she told him then, "I think you are my fantasy too."


	5. FLOWER

FLOWER

Fakir had never thought much on flowers. They were weak, defenseless organisms that served a limited purpose. He did not see them as ugly nor beautiful; they were only an existence. At least until he ran into Freya while walking through the gardens on his way to class.

He hadn't noticed anyone was there until a voice called out to him, "you are Fakir, Ahiru's friend, are you not?"

The young man stumbled but quickly righted himself to face the speaker, "who are you?" he questioned, dodging the blondes words.

"I am Freya, I tend the gardens of our fair school." she tipped the silver pail in her hand to water a patch of flowers, "Ahiru often stops by to view the flowers." Righting the pail she looked at him, "she usually talks about you."

"I see." He wasn't at all surprised; he could be pretty mean to her.

Freya seemed to understand that he took her words wrong, "she is right."

Fakir met her gaze, "right about what?"

The blond smiled in return, "you are gruff but very kind, and you're really hard on yourself. You are like a Wisteria; steadfast and strong even if you do not recognize that strength." she smiled and pointed to a large, purple flowered tree. There were vines of flowers from the tree growing on the covered walkway of the school. "You are both supported by your loved ones and you support them in return."

She danced over to a small patch of small purple flowers with petals that fanned out like the suns' rays, "Ahiru on the other hand is like a delicate purple daisy, pure and innocent. She lives each day with naive love and hope and no matter what ills she faces she always sees the good in everything. If my observations are correct, she wakes up, spreads her petals and welcomes the suns' rays, fully expecting at least one good thing or many. At night when her arms of petals close, her worries are far away."

Freya talked with so much passion he was reminded of Ahiru. What she saw saying did make some sense. The blue eyed redhead was very innocent, though her troubles did at times weigh her down in Drosselmeyer's story. Now however, she was quick to recover and to believe in the best of everybody. That part hadn't changed, even when it came to him. She still held so much hope and innocence that she could overlook his atrocious behaviors.

Maybe there was something to be learned from flowers. After all, they were weak, defenseless organisms yet with or without help they came back after every winter. Strong and innocent, just as Freya had described him and Ahiru.

Freya seemed not to notice his inner musings, walking towards him with purpose. The young writer did not notice and she knelt down and plucked a feathery, purple daisy. From her pocket, she took a pair of scissors and cut off the end. Standing up, she handed the bloom to Fakir, who took it automatically, his surprise cutting off any other kind of response.

"Take this," Freya told him, "I think you'll find someone to give it to."

The raven haired youth's cheeks burned red, "why would I do that?"

She gave him no reason for her words, just smiled and waved goodbye as she ventured into the depths of the garden. Left standing alone, he sighed. There was no use and trying to decipher her motives at the moment. The bell had rung and he was going to be late to class for once.

After class was over, Fakir made his way to the school fountain, the place he usually met Ahiru after school. They met up as usual, but today, Ahiru had an addition to her usual books and ballet attire.

"What is that?" Fakir pointed to the object in question.

It was a little purple flower on a vine of many, each with four petals and very fragrant. He knew what it was; he just wondered why she had it. And then he remembered his conversation with Freya.

"—and then she said that this flower suited me and she gave me one." Though he missed the first part of her explanation, he was able to venture a guess at what Freya was doing.

With a faint blush on his cheeks, he took the wisteria vine from the redhead, and instead, stuck the purple daisy into her hair. "Idiot, daisies suit you better."

She seemed confused for a moment, but a second later she smiled and blushed softly, "thank you Fakir."

Turning away to hide his growing blush, he coughed to clear his throat and mumbled, "idiot." He wasn't ready to let her know how happy it made him to see that she liked the flower, even if he hadn't been the one to pick it for her.


	6. TIME

TIME

Ahiru was never any good with tests, much less tests on magic. Add the fact it was a time manipulation test and she felt certain she would fail. Their professor said they were merely speeding up their own movement but she was skeptical. Time was time, and she didn't want to accidently mess it up.

"Miss Ahiru," the young redhead snapped out of her thoughts, "it is your turn." The professor announced.

Gulping nervously, she got up and walked to the front of the classroom. When she got to the desk, the professor moved out of the way to give her room. The professor smiled an encouraging smile and signaled for her to go ahead.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. It wouldn't be a problem; she'd studied the potion, memorized the spell, and knew exactly how to stir the ingredients. She worked the potion slowly, taking her time until she was sure she had it right. The potion turned a brilliant red color and a puff of red smoke rose from the pot.

That was a good sign.

The only thing left was to chant the spell and drink the potion. The professor looked on proudly as she chanted but all quickly changed. Ahiru chanted the last few words, but she'd said the wrong ones. The class gasped, the professor lunged but it was too late, she up ended her goblet, and then she was gone.

It was only a few hours later when Ahiru woke up back in the classroom, a headache creeping up the base of her skull. Of course her professor first assessed her for injuries and other bodily changes. When none were found, she questioned the young redhead on what had happened.

Rubbing her head she shrugged, "I-I don't remember." she reported, feeling slightly guilty and perhaps a little queasy.

Who knew time travel could make you motion sick?

The professor sighed, "good, good, that means nothing in the Time Stream has been broken or altered."

Satisfied that nothing had happened, the professor continued administering the test, making sure to remind her students of the importance of pronunciation. Ahiru sat in the back, feeling guilty for lying but also puzzling over all she had learned.

She went to the future; she knew that much since she had met an older version of herself. She was wearing a cute powder blue sundress that fluttered appealingly in the wind. On her head was a white sunhat that had a matching blue ribbon around it.

By the way the older her was smiling, Ahiru knew she had been expecting to see her.

'I did the same thing when I was your age,' she told the younger Ahiru, a little boy with green hair and blue eyes popped out from behind her. She smiled and pat him on the head, 'I will not say anything to you as nothing was said to me. Just keep smiling and be the hopeful girl you always were.'

Ahiru could only nod, mesmerized by the boy at her side. 'He seems so familiar.' she thought.

'I will send you on your way. Your mistake was an honest one but try not to move forward in time again.' She waved goodbye and chanted something she didn't understand.

As she chanted, Ahiru began to feel lightheaded, and just as she felt like she would black out completely, another form stepped forward. The figure was a man, lean and tall, darker skinned, with green hair. Just before she blacked out, she saw his eyes and the only thing she could say was his name.

The man wound his arm around the older Ahiru's waist, tucking her against his side while placing a hand on the little boys head. A soft smile formed on his lips.

Ahiru wanted to talk to him, she called out to him, "Fakir," she rasped, but then her world swirled until there was nothing else except for a black abyss.

The experience left her with a profound feeling of wholeness, a complete happiness she couldn't describe because she hadn't experienced that future yet. What she knew she could explain was her excitement for the passage of time. She was in no hurry, but she was looking forward to the future, and becoming the beautiful and poised woman she had met, and seeing the family she had with the future Fakir.


	7. HANDS

HANDS

(Hand Casting Ceremony)

As the night wound down, the headmaster of Kinkan academy announced the closing ceremonies.

"Each year," she began in a booming voice, "we end our annual Festival of Fantasy with two events. First, the Hand Casting Ceremony, and finally, we bid you fair well with spell works."

The young writer stood next to his companion whose attention was captured by the headmaster's speech. She said a few more words and then bade everyone farewell and a safe night before directing the crowd to find a partner for the hand casting ceremony. Fakir knew the general basis for the ceremony but wondered how well Ahiru knew it.

By the way she was fidgeting, he figured not too well.

"There's no need to be nervous, it's a simple spell." he told her while taking her hand.

She looked up at him and gave him a strained smile, "I know. It's just... I never did it before so I'm worried I'll mess it up."

Allowing a soft smile to calm her, he squeezed her hand, "you won't mess it up. The headmaster leads the spell and I'm right here too."

At those last four words her smile radiated and she completely relaxed, "thank you, Fakir."

Fakir chuckled softly, "idiot, there's nothing to thank me for." Of course he said the words softly so she wouldn't hear.

A few minutes later the headmaster directed the crowd to take their partners hand. The young man squeezed his companions hand and smiled. Ahiru looked back at him and returned the expression in kind.

"Thread your fingers together and raise them high. Lift your gaze to the moon above and repeat."

The crowd did as they were told, Fakir and Ahiru following suit. However, his gaze did not center on the moon, but their entwined hands. Fakir could not help but feel it was right they ended up here. Drosselmeyer's story had shown him how connected they were and reality solidified that fact. Eyes locked on their intertwined hands, he began to chant along with the crowd.

Beside him, Ahiru stumbled over the words slightly. However, she was reassured when he squeezed her hand and caught her eye. The rest of the sell was spoken perfectly and the effect was stunning. All around each pair of entwined hands began to glow, as if they had absorbed the moons glow.

Ahiru gasped, awed by the sight. The enchantment did not stop there. One by one the glow left each pair of hands and lifted into the sky. The lights created a circle in the sky, slowly rotating at first, but going faster and faster the tighter the circle became. When all the orbs were packed so tightly they were one, they exploded outward in a beautiful display much like fireworks, the sparks of the explosion touching each pair of hands.

A warm tingling feeling went up his arm as the spark hit their hands. It was so surprising he gazed back down to Ahiru to see if she had felt the same thing. She must have for she was giving him the same bewildered and awestruck gaze.

The hand casting ceremony over, students began with their spell work; creating animals and objects out of nature, writing letters only to have them fly through the air, and magic of all kinds. However, Fakir was not looking at all the spell work, no, he was gazing at his companion, and she was gazing back at him. Their expressions were neutral at first but slowly grew into smiles. He wasn't sure what kind of magic hand casting was, but he knew it had unlocked something, something that allowed him to truly let himself enjoy the warmth and softness of Ahiru's hand.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

HANDS

(12 years later)

Ahiru's last scream tore through Fakir, chilling him to the bone, but then the miracle arrived. A loud, high-pitched wail filled the room.

Their child was finally born, their son was here.

"Let me hold him," Ahiru panted in a tired and strained voice, her hands, tired and cramped from clutching his, reached out nonetheless for their child.

The nurse, a pretty thing with brown hair, happily handed the baby boy to his new mother. "He's healthy with a nice set of lungs," she announced with a kind smile.

Fakir stood as close as possible to his wife and child, his body hunched over so he could wrap his arm around her. With his free hand he stroked their son's face, "he's beautiful." He said, kissing his wife's forehead.

Both watched silently for a moment as their son squirmed, his hands waving about, as if he were searching for something. Both mother and father reached a hand out to his. At that moment there was the sound of a shutter and then they were gently cradling the newborns hands.

"Sorry," the brown haired nurse called, "it was too beautiful a moment to lose so I took a picture."

The couple hadn't even realized anyone had still been there but Fakir gratefully took the Polaroid. It was clear, the focus was their reaching hands but each of them was slightly visible as well. The new father showed his wife the picture. Upon seeing it she began to cry. Fakir could only smile as he set the picture down so he could wipe away her tears.

Once her tears dried, Fakir held their son. He was baffled at how soft and light he was. The baby again started reaching and Fakir held up his hand so his son could grab at his fingers. It amazed him, how strong the little guy's grip was and he was struck by the strength and use of his hands. With the same hands he wrote with, the same hands he practiced the sword with, he had held and loved his wife, he protected and soothed her, created a home, provided for them. And now his hands were a cradle, a circle of protection for the life so tiny he fit in the circle of his arms.

Sitting down at her bedside, Fakir took Ahiru's hand. In that moment everything was safe and perfect. He knew that as long as he could reach out and take their hands, he would never need anything else.


End file.
